


Journey's End Has No End

by actualmichelle



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Introspection, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:53:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2790689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualmichelle/pseuds/actualmichelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short coda of sorts to Battle of the Five Armies. Don't read unless you've seen the movie. It is overall an introspective tale with a non-fixit ending, but a happy one nonetheless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Journey's End Has No End

Walking away from Erebor was one of the hardest parts of Bilbo’s journey. Going back to his books, to his armchair—but away from the last bit of Thorin he had left: the remaining members of the company. He and Gandalf walked in silence for most of the first day, making camp and enjoying a quite dinner after dark had fallen. Bilbo did not sleep much that first night, rather he gazed at the stars and remembered the countless times he had done the same with the snoring of dwarrows coming from all sides.

This continued for the next few days, until eventually Bilbo began to fall asleep, waking with a smile on his face from memories. Gandalf began to make more cheerful small talk at that—Bilbo appreciated him having given space for thought. Certainly one benefit of not being surrounded by dwarrows was the peace and quiet! Bilbo chuckled to himself as he stirred their dinner-soup (made of mushrooms, water, cream, and wild sage).

Finally they were passing through Mirkwood, this time with an escort offered by Thranduil himself. The darkness was not quite as oppressive this time, a new life seemed to exist in the greenery and the wildlife was far more friendly. The darkness was finally lifting, a new peace on the land. But yet, it was this journey which had Bilbo clutching his acorn and waiting for the demanding ‘what is that’, to turn and see Thorin once again….

They stayed in Beorn’s house for a month. Bilbo enjoyed the food and took long walks, taking time to think and puzzle over all that had happened. He still could not bring himself to fully grieve, but it was a start. Gandalf asked him finally, “I believe it is time to continue on, don’t you, Bilbo?” And Bilbo could only nod mutely. After all, the currents of time would only carry Bilbo away from Thorin—whether he remained in the places he’d seen the dwarf last or no.

Journeying over the mountains and back to Rivendell was grueling, and Bilbo took to quizzing Gandalf about all he knew of dwarf culture and history. The lore was rich, and not quite enough of the language was imparted to him, but Bilbo figured he could ask his friends about that whenever they did stop by for tea.

Finally they reached Rivendell—a full nine months had passed since leaving Erebor. The summer was well on its way and the weather was warm, sunny, and reminded Bilbo achingly of the Shire. Elrond greeted them both warmly, offering them as long a visit as they desired.

Bilbo slept for a day, better than he had since their first round at Beorn’s house. Then he went to the library, taking full use of what he had not gotten a chance to do last time around. For another couple months he and Gandalf ate, told stories, and rested in the company of the elves; Bilbo began to feel the last shadows fade from his heart.

And on the day the left, beginning the walk back to the Shire Bilbo began to feel truly thankful he was finally returning home. After sorting out the matter of the ransacked state of Bag End Bilbo went to the back of his garden and dug a hole, placing the acorn gently in the earth. And if he sat quietly nearby, tears running silently down his cheeks, there was no one around to notice anyway.

 

The years passed, Bilbo becoming more and more of a slightly odd seeming minor celebrity. He adopted Frodo and enjoyed the companionship of a spirit similar to his own. The dwarves occasionally visited—first Balin and Dwalin, then the Ri brothers, and then all of them at once. He dreamed occasionally of Thorin, and less frequently of Fili and Kili—and some days he sat gazing mutely at his map, holding his mithril shirt and feeling keenly the loss of his dear friends.

All the while, his oak tree grew out back, tall and proud.

In the background of Bilbo’s life he noted the ring—heavy in his pocket but offering a bit of soothing which he was incapable of resisting. Overall, he was not surprised when Gandalf revealed its true nature. Gold was not meant for him. He would not miss it.

And so he set to Rivendell once again, for the last time. His staying there was unplanned, but Bilbo could feel the weight of his years dragging him down and the peace in that elven city was perfect for relaxing after all these years.

Some odd amount of time passed and his Frodo returned, and they finally set out on one more adventure—to the Grey Havens. Bilbo napped most of the way but woke just when they reached their boat. “I think I’m ready for another adventure,” Bilbo announced, walking up onto the boat.

They sailed for days, until they hit land. Bilbo felt a new life return to him as he stepped onto the grass. There were people in the distance singing merrily, and Gandalf smiled at him kindly, “Bilbo, you must come with me.”

Bilbo agreed, trusting Gandalf as he always would, and followed the wizard through the peaceful land until they reached a large hall of stone. Gandalf led him inside and Bilbo followed, then walked through the doorway and stopped short. A painful gasp worked itself out of his chest.

Before him stood Thorin Oakenshield. Tall, strong, and beaming at Bilbo. Bilbo went towards him at a run and his dwarf caught grabbed him in his arms, pulling Bilbo tightly to his chest. They clung to one another desperately, and Bilbo could see Kili, Fili, Ori, and Balin standing nearby with smiles upon their faces.

“Oh Thorin! I have missed you, so much. There is so much I could tell you. The oak tree-it grew wonderfully. And I wrote a book, of our adventures. There was never much appreciation for it from other Hobbits, of course but—“

Thorin raised a hand, gently cupping Bilbo’s cheek and Bilbo fell silent. Their hands found one another and wound together, smiles and silence overcoming them in their joy.

So ends the tale of Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins—in life, at any rate. The two were often seen wandering Valinor together, sharing a laugh or a meal and simply reveling in one another’s company until the end of days and, doubtlessly, beyond.

**Author's Note:**

> I refuse to believe that the afterlives of the different races of middle earth are completely separate. Love and kindness have no bonds, not even death.
> 
> Writing this was mostly cathartic and as such I did not really proofread it--my apologies in advance. I hope others draw some comfort from it, as well!


End file.
